


Trauma

by KiwiKat_Writes



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: (also Jane's chair? it is real. I saw it in a Goodwill., Animosity, Catherine Parr Messed Up, Gen, Katherine Howard is Traumatized and no one really helps her, Kitty had a bad life and needs help okay, Kitty has Trauma and doesn't get help, Kitty is a Smol Bean and I love her, My headcanon on how the Queens interact, The Queens and Kitty don't really get along, again not until the second chaptet, and a telephone in the arm., and glorious), but she fixed it so it good it goos, it has a massage back., it was real., keep anne boleyn away from amazon, kind of a character study???? kind of not?????, not until the second chapter, not yet, she will order Squirmles and waste your money, this is my own thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23704876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiwiKat_Writes/pseuds/KiwiKat_Writes
Relationships: Anne Boleyn & Katherine Howard, Katherine Howard and Men, Katherine Howard/Trauma
Comments: 23
Kudos: 123





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Burntuakrisp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burntuakrisp/gifts).



It had started with a simple argument. Boleyn and Aragon had gotten into a simple argument, regarding the musical they had agreed to write. The Queens had all gotten together and discussed their situation, before talking out what their plans were going forward. 

But now, everyone in the house was at her wits’ end. They, for all they should be able to, could  _ not make it work! _ And, as Kitty mused over her own pink notebook, the argument started escalating. Boleyn and Aragon had the unique ability of knowing exactly how to push each other’s buttons, which was not most ideal.

The yelling had put the teen on edge. Sure, she had been through a literal lifetime of trauma, but this was a new life! She should be okay with loud noises! Yet… every time someone fell down the stairs cursing at 3 am (normally Boleyn; she had no sense of direction in the dark), every time Anne and Catherine fought with raised voices and heated glares, whenever Jane scolded her with that tiny bit of patronizing tone in her voice that Kitty had learned to associate with burning pain, later on, it would leave her fingers trembling as she tried to contain her panic. None of them knew about her, and her whole… thing… with the past, and they didn’t need to know! She was stronger than this, the rose without thorns!

_ ‘The rose stripped of its thorns…’ _

Anyways! Her hair was tied up in a simple high ponytail, the mocha brown swirling around her head. Restlessly fingering the strands floating and framing her face as the other hand tapped a pencil against her notebook, she let her gaze turn a bit to the pink bag hanging at her side, holding a box of something that she had been hesitant to buy. 

Whenever she woke up, before facing the Queens she would always dress herself up, present herself to them. It was what they wanted, so it was her routine. Simple. But, some days, she just wanted to not color her lips with the strawberry pink gloss, she just wanted to leave the eyeshadow and mascara and foundation and primer and highlighter and concealer and all the other makeup supplies she had gotten in their own little drawer and just… be herself.

But that day was not today. It was getting close to one of her bad days, and glancing at the calendar, she could tell what date and why. The Queens had all, simultaneously, agreed to mark their especially bad dates with  _ him _ and otherwise on the calendar.

Kitty was painfully aware that there was just a bit more highlighter pink on the paper months than other colors. 

March 13th. The first time Henry Mannox had locked the door to their music study, pinning her in a corner and having his own way, leaving her bleeding and crying afterward. Her scalp ached for days.

Just a week later, the 19th, when she had a scare. Her monthly had come late, and she had dissociated in a panic most of the week until it finally appeared, in cramping and twisting of the muscles in her gut that had never felt so comforting.

Then, more than a year of the cycle later, on October 25th. That was the time that Francis Dereham had slipped into the girls’ sleeping room, prowling throughout the room. Whenever he passed Katherine, she would get grabbed, rubbed in all the wrong places. Then the next day, the 26th, when he first called her into his office.

Then, two long, unbearable years later. She was a lady-in-waiting, her life had been okay! Then… then the day.

July 28th. The day the King had finally decided to keep her as his own little toy and sealed it with a ring and a much-hated kiss. She had been 16 at the time. He had been 49. 

Then, a series of bad dates, one after the other. January 18th, the date Thomas Culpeper had pulled her into his study, grabbed her in that familiar place, and almost ripped her dress off. 

February 11th, the date that Henry found out and she dashed through the halls, screaming at the feet of the man she despised to have mercy and spare her life.

February 12th, the day she spent in the Tower, laying her head down on the block just so until she collapsed from exhaustion, too spent to even sob about her oncoming death. 

And finally. February 13th. The day she was led to a courtyard, a crowd surrounding, stonily standing and surveying her demise. The day a blunt axe wielded by a hungover executioner first pierced her neck, needing several chops to fully sever her head.

The day she was grasped by her long, brown hair the last time before being held up in front of a crowd, her eyes taking in the last sight she would ever see. A crowd, silently awaiting her death.

“Kitty, hon? Are you okay?” She jerked her head up from her hand, blinking as she saw all six of the Queens dispersing from the table. She had completely dissociated, losing the conversation.

“Aw, come on Jane! It’s Kitty! She’s probably thinking of what to base her song off of!”

Anne Boleyn exclaimed from the couch, hanging in a backbend over the back of the couch. Her own coffee-bean dark hair dangled, the tips touching the hardwood floor. Aragon barked from in the kitchen.

“Anne, sit properly on the couch!” Anne rolled her eyes upside down, winking at Kitty, and grinning at the giggle she pulled out before deftly flipping herself over the back of the couch and slouching into the cushions. 

Kitty held her pencil eraser up to her mouth, idly biting on the little rubber nub. Helping to write a musical? 

She should have this in the bag! She had spent months daydreaming that someday, someone would learn of her pain and tell her story.

But then again… none of the Queens truly knew of her story, did they? The one who knows the most is Anna, and the German woman didn’t even know half of it. That was better than some of the other reactions. 

Catherine Parr had taken a look at her and, curling her lip, spoke out when they had first seen each other.

_ “Oh, it’s the cheating vixen. Hey, how was your little plaything while you were dead? Heard he was beheaded too...” _ Anna had looked up, her eyebrows furrowed. Kitty had told her of her and Thomas’ friendship, but she had also assured her that the following actions had been unwanted from her side. But the news never reached the population. And, from that one sentence, there had been a wall between her and the other Queens. They were quiet around her, chattering about her as soon as she left the room. The only one to breach the silence was Anne, and she only did it a few times, and only for trivial things like ‘Pass the syrup, please’ and ‘Could you keep the eggs from burning?’.

She understood them, she really did! But… it was painful. She had hoped that meeting the five women who shared a similar part of their lives would give her help and support, but instead, she was being watched. 

But she couldn’t blame them! All her life, she had been praised for being so beautiful, turning heads. And, as Francis had groaned into her ear after a session in his office, she could tell no one. Who would believe her? She had to stay quiet, be a doll, be perfect. If not, she would be tossed onto the street like she had been threatened with so many times before.

Shaking her head to clear it of her thoughts, she gathered her supplies and walked to her room. It was in the attic, up a flight of stairs from everyone else’s rooms. Slipping into the rather plain room, she sighed. 

Kitty had always wanted pink walls, with pink curtains and a nice pink rug, but she had never had that luxury. Why would that change now? She didn’t like plain gray walls, but she could make do. She had lived with worse.

Tossing her notebook onto the simple desk, she sat cross-legged on the twin bed. Giving herself a minute to just breathe, she felt herself tilt back until her head collided with the pillow.

Pulling her phone up, she slipped her headphones on and let YouTube choose her music for her. She had full trust in the algorithm, just hoping that it wouldn’t play too many classic instrumentals. On good days, those could be kind of triggering for her.

So, of course, when an upbeat tempo started pounding through her headphones, it caught her attention. She listened to the song, hearing lyrics start to blare through her headphones.

_ ‘All the single ladies! (All the single ladies…) _

Well, she was alone, right?

  
  
  


Jane knocked on Katherine’s door, hearing no response. Her eyebrows furrowing, she cracked the door open. 

She was met with the sight of the woman listening to music on her phone, headphones snugly sitting on her head while she twirled herself around and danced in her own funky style in her own little world. Jane smiled, before closing the door. The woman that was normally so quiet could have this little bit of being herself. 

She could bring dinner up later. 

  
  
  
  


“Kitty? Kitty, are you up here?”

“H-huh? Anne, isn’t your room down between Jane and Anna’s? Why are you up here?”   


“Well, you got the attic, and it’s really cool! But, Jane wants you down in the living room. Said we’re sharing trauma or something like that.”

“Excuse me what.”

“Yeeeeeep. Now get your butt down to the living room or so help me I will carry you.”

“Will you really-aCK! ANNE! ANNE PUT ME DOWN RIGHT NOW.”

“Nope. You challenged me.”

“OKAY FAIR!”


	2. Chapter 2

Kitty shifted in her place. After an awkward period of her sitting on the edge of the couch and no other Queens sitting on it, she surrendered the sofa to the others and dragged a small gray bean bag from her room to sit on. Parr still gracefully draped the Queen’s least favorite blanket over where she had formerly sat, before settling in herself. The most ironic thing about that is that Catherine Parr had actually started to warm up to her, even just saying ‘good morning’ when she went downstairs and making her coffee or tea for when she had a nightmare or the such. Jane was perched on an armchair they had gotten from a Goodwill (woah, it was full of so much stuff! Kitty had seen a bright pink rocking chair with darker pink stripes there that she desperately wanted for her room, but was too afraid to ask. She wasn’t aware that Jane had taken notice of her longing for the chair and went back the next day, or that that exact chair was sitting in the garage and waiting for the youngest Queen’s birthday.) The chair was a dark maroon, and it had a remote with a whole bunch of buttons that Kitty didn’t know what they were. She never dared get close enough to see what they were. But, as the last Queen (Boleyn) sat down, Aragon spoke from her perch on the couch.

“Okay, how do we want to do this?” Anna spoke up, raising an eyebrow.   
“I say we go in Queen order, and start with our names and ages, both of death and here.” Jane hummed, before nodding. 

“That will work, love.” Aragon whistled sharply, gathering attention. 

“Excuse me!” Ignoring Boleyn’s mutter of ‘how elitist’, she clapped once.

“My name is Catherine of Aragon, and I died at age 50, but right now I’m about 35.” Boleyn bounced in her place, waving her hand in the air.   
“Ooh, ooh, my turn! Hi! I’m Anne Boleyn, I died at 35, but now I’m about 20!” Anna raised an eyebrow.

“So Aragon and Boleyn both lost about 15 years.” Jane quietly coughed, bringing everyone’s attention to her. 

“Hello, loves. I’m Jane Seymour, and I died at 29. Interestingly, I’m the same age right now.” 

“Aaaand it’s messed up. How amazing. Anyways, hi. I’m Anna of Cleves, and I died at age 41. But right now, I’m about 30.” Parr groaned to herself. 

“This makes no sense! How come Boleyn and Aragon lost 15 years, but Jane didn’t lose any, but you only lost 10?” The Queen in red shot a look at the writer.

“I’m sorry, but there’s someone else to go right now, so collect data a bit later, please?” The blue-clad woman huffed, leaning a bit further into the couch. Kitty looked up, flinching when she saw Aragon’s sharp gaze and Boleyn’s inquisitive eyes on her.

“U-um, hi, my name is Katherine Howard, a-and I died at 17.” She could almost hear the record scratch as everyone stopped moving.

“B-but, right now I-I’m 16.” She shrunk into herself, using her hair to hide a bit. The mocha strands did well at hiding her face, for once not covered in makeup. Thank goodness for that. A stony silence settled over the Queens. Then, Jane tentatively spoke.

“Love, how old were you when you married the king?” She cowered a bit more, mumbling her answer.

“U-uh, I w-was 16…” At that, Aragon shook her head.

“That man… deplorable enough to wed a girl less than half his age…” Katherine meeped, pulling the hair more in front of her face. Anne tilted her head, surveying the curtain of mocha.

“You know, Kitty, your hair would look really good with pink highlights? Or maybe pink at the tips?” Katherine poked her head out a tiny bit, looking at Anne’s eyes. They weren’t being rude, or mean; she was genuine. 

And that’s why she wasn’t too worried to tug the box from her little bag and gently foist it into Anne’s hands. Before the second Queen could react, Catherine Parr spoke up.

“Excuse me! Hi, my name is Catherine Parr, and I died at 36 years old. Right now, I’m 25.” Anna nodded, pursing her lips.

“Eleven years, not too bad there.” Aragon nodded at the writer, getting a little smile in return. Kitty was listening to Anne excitedly spouting ideas for the pink hair dye she held, and Jane was sipping on a cup of tea that appeared out of nowhere. Anna raised her eyebrows, sitting up a bit.

“So, who’s going first with the trauma bit?” Aragon shrugged.

“Well, might as well go first. So, I lived in Spain and then was shipped to England. I married King Henry’s brother, who died. I then married King Henry, and when I didn’t give birth to a son the first time, he started seeing Boleyn. The Church wouldn’t allow us to be separated, so he made his whole own church, simply to get our marriage annulled so he could marry Boleyn. I left England and moved back to Spain, where I later died in a nunnery. Kinda simple, and vague, but it’s to the point.” Anne nodded to herself.   
“Well, guess I’m next! I was from France, and I didn’t like the court system there, so we moved to England. Then I met Henry out on the streets, and we started meeting up, like, every day! And he sent letters, and then I moved in with him and Aragon over there-”

“Watch yourself, Boleyn.”

“-Sorry, sorry, but anyways. He dumped ol’ Goldie-”

“ _ Watch yourself, Boleyn. _ ”

“-He dumped Aragon and then married me. Then he started leaving, especially after I gave birth to Elizabeth. So, to get him back, y’know,  _ into _ me, I went out on the town and started flirting a bit, got a couple drinks, right? And then Henry finds out, and he’s all in a tizzy about it, freaks out! Then he slandered my name, and boom I was beheaded!” Parr looked a weird mix of attracted and terrified at how casually she spoke of years of trauma. Aragon looked disgusted, and Anna just looked amused. Jane glanced back and forth, sipping her tea.

“W-well, if you don’t mind… may I go?” General assent let her smile, and she set her teacup down.

“Well, my life really wasn’t too bad compared to everyone else’s lives here. I married him, and he actually loved me. I felt loved. I had a son, but… I died before I could officially meet him. That’s… that’s my life.” Anna made a tsk-ing noise with her tongue. 

“Babes, about the same hat. Came from Germany, married him, got divorced when I accidentally bad-mouthed him. Moved back to Germany, profited.” Jane smiled, nodding to the German Queen. Eyes then turned to Kitty, who meeped again. Gently poking her head out of her hair, she felt her fingers start to shake again. Almost like they knew what was going on, ghosts of hands started sliding up and down her sides, gripping her biceps and wrists-

“-tty! Kitty, can you hear me?”

“Babes, she’s panicking. Calm down a bit, and give her space. Kitty, can you hear me?” Kitty just gasped out a breath, before trying to suck another in. There was a vice around her diaphragm and lungs, squeezing the breath out of her.

“Kitty, I’m going to touch you, okay?” She just managed to shake her head ‘no’ violently, scooching backwards in her beanbag. The hands from what seemed like both years ago and just yesterday were slipping everywhere, grabbing her and trapping her-

There was a weight settling on her, and her eyes opened. There were blurs in front of her, one red and dark one closer than the others, a blue one next to it, and three other colors a little further back. A green blur was rapidly backing up, and Kitty blinked. Moving her gaze sluggishly to her arms, she saw a curtain of emerald green covering them. It had a weight to it, and it took a while for her to realize what it might be.

“-a weighted blanket, it’s really good for panic attacks and such. I get some attacks and nightmares about being beheaded, and this really helps. Do you want me to hop onto Amazon and order her one of her own?”

“Let’s see if she wants one first, love. Kitty? Kitty, can you hear me?” The grey and white blur spoke, and Kitty blinked. She slowly nodded, when trying to speak proved futile. Her tongue was too heavy and wouldn’t move in her mouth, so much like when she tried to talk about everything in her past life.

“Okay, that’s good. She hears us.”

“Jane, Anna, can you guys back up a bit?” The blue lump gently pushed the red one back, taking all of Kitty’s attention to her.

“Kit, do you know who I am?” Kitty’s eyebrows furrowed, rationality finally coming back to her. 

“C-Catherine? Parr?” The woman let out a relieved sigh, before a hand floated in her vision.

“Okay. That’s good. Listen, Kit, can I touch you?” She shrunk back a bit, not wanting to be touched too much. The woman could obviously see this.

“Okay. Would you want me to tell you what and where I’m going to touch?” That was… that seemed okay. If she knew she would know. Nodding, slowly, Parr smiled. Or was that a frown?

“Good. That’s good, okay? You’re doing well. I’m going to touch your left shoulder, okay?” Kitty blinked, before nodding. Slowly, a hand was placed on her left shoulder, helping ground her even more. 

“Kitty, I’m going to grab your waist and pull you up, okay?” As soon as the word waist left her mouth, Kitty flinched. That was too close-

“Okay. Not the waist. Kitty, can I grab you under your arms and help you up?” That sounded okay. Not too close to a lot. There were hands under her arms, pulling her up a bit.

“Now, I’m going to touch you in two places, okay? I’m going to touch you under your knees and on your shoulders. Is that good with you?” Kitty mulled the request over, before nodding. Then there was an arm under her knees and one under her shoulders, carrying her in a bridal hold. She moved across the room, carried by Parr, and then she was placed on a couch. Parr sat next to her, and she hesitated, before lightly sinking into the older woman’s side. The writer allowed it, raising an arm to accommodate and gently slinging it across her shoulders. She felt herself trembling, before she turned a bit and buried her head in Parr’s shoulder. The woman held her securely, not even letting her go when she started to cry. 

“...wow.”

“Catherine Parr: Katherine Howard Whisperer!”

“I haven’t seen someone handle an attack that precisely, that was amazing! Can you teach me how to do that?”

“Maybe after she calms down. Kitty needs stability right now, and if I am that stability so be it.”

“Wait, I thought you kinda hated her? Why are you helping her if you hate her?”   


“ _ Anne Boleyn, do you have any tact? _ ”

“No, no, it’s okay. I… I was mad that she died so soon, and it got me stuck with Henry. But… she didn’t control him beheading her. Sure, if she hadn’t had the affair, it would never have happened, but… It was irrational of me to hate her for something that Henry, ultimately, controlled.”

“That was very mature, love.”

“Thanks. It’s a gift.”

“N-not an a-a-affair…” Everyone silenced at the sound of Kitty’s tremulous voice.

“Babes?”

“I-it wasn’t an affair. I-I didn’t- I didn’t w-want it-” A soft gasp from across the room.

“Are you saying that he forced you to bed with him? Culpeper?” She flinched when she heard the name, curling a bit further into Parr’s side. Waiting a little, she hesitantly nodded. Catherine’s arm tensed across her shoulder, but she didn’t move.

“Anne Boleyn! Do you have any tact? She just had a panic attack, you don’t need to yell about what happened to the heavens!”

“I’m sorry! I… I just was confirming!” Jane leaned over a bit and pulled the blanket up a bit, covering Kitty more thoroughly. 

“I-I never wanted… I never wanted it… Mannox, Dereham, H-Henry, Cul-Culpeper, I never-” A sob broke out of her throat and Catherine almost instantly held her tighter. 

The sound of porcelain shattering made her jump.

“Jane! Are you okay? That was one of your favorite teacups…”

“Oh, I’ll throw it in warm milk later. Right now, I’m more worried about the fact that Kitty was apparently forced to sleep with four men, against her will, and is only 16!”

“Jane… she mentioned two men before Henry. Denken sie eine sekunde darüber nach.”

“Does that mean that she… before 16… went to bed with two men?” Kitty breathed in, deep and unbroken, before she mustered the courage to speak again.

“M-Mannox was 13. D-Dereh-ham was 14 to 16. Henry and Culpeper were 16.” 

“Did she just say 13.”

“Aragon? Are you okay?”

“A v-vile man named Mannox forced her to bed with him at 13.”

“Jane, I broke the resident Catholic…”

“A man named Mannox forced her to sleep in his bed at 13.”

“A-Aragon, you’re scaring Anne…”

“Boleyn, you’re weak. Have you ever been in the Haus of Holbein?”

“Excuse me while I pray for God to raise those men from the pit of Hell so I can kill them again.”

“Aaaand we’ve made her resort to violence. I was wondering how long it would be before she snapped…” 

“Well, I was going to share what happened to me with Henry, but right now I think Kitty needs to get away from the trauma-sharing…”

“Catherine, are you okay?”   


“Nope. I called her a cheating vixen, and ostracized her from us Queens, due to something that she didn’t even want. I am not doing okay.”

“...do you need a hug?”   


“I’m getting a hug, I’m good.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m ordering Kitty a baby pink weighted blanket and no one can stop me-ooh, what are Squirmles?”   


“Anne Boleyn, if you waste our money on one more thing-”

“Oh, these are completely necessary!”    


“Boleyn. No.”

“Aragon’s back! Hey- where are you going?”   


“The little secluded glade in that park. I have a couple people to send back to where they belong.”

“...mein Gott.” 

“The madwoman. She actually did it.” 

“Aragon, please don’t be hasty! Take Boleyn’s sword!”   


“Hey, don’t… you know what, go ahead. Poetic beauty and all that.”   


“Isn’t that an antique?”   


“Can’t get more antique than having it spill the blood of your enemies!” 

“Da haben sie mich erwischt.”

Kitty smiled to herself, feeling her conscious darkening. They knew. And they hadn’t rejected her! They were being nice! 

Maybe she could finally have a pink room...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> keep anne boleyn away from amazon plz-  
> Also idk when this went from angsty angst to absolute crack so hERE TAKE THIS-


End file.
